She said nothing for a while. Marvik headed east and was soon once again crossing the River Hamble and winding his way through the streets towards the marina where Strathen moored his boat.
‘How did they know that’s the bag I usually carry?’ she finally asked.
He didn’t reply.
‘You can’t be serious. You are. You think I’ve been watched.’
‘I’m not sure for how long though.’ Before Charlotte had visited Blackerman? Before Blackerman’s son had died? Or since he had started asking questions and Crowder had stuck his nose in? Could that telephone call he’d witnessed DI Duncan Ross making have been to put a watch on Helen?
After a short pause she said, ‘So Blackerman didn’t kill her.’
‘No, but he knows who did and he’s too scared to say who and why.’ And Marvik was beginning to understand that. Whoever it was had muscle and Blackerman must have known that any threats to him and his family would be carried out. He added, ‘And until I find out who Esther’s killer is it’s not safe for you.’
‘Suppose you never find out,’ she said quietly.
‘I will,’ he firmly replied. He thought she looked a little reassured. He added, ‘I’m sorry I’ve put your life in danger.’
‘But I don’t know anything about Esther’s death.’
‘Perhaps you do and don’t realize it, or perhaps they think you do.’
‘Who the fuck are they?’ she cried, her exasperation tinged with fear.
‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’
She took a breath. ‘Can’t we just go to the police?’
‘They might be involved.’
‘Jesus, you’ve been reading too many thrillers!’ Her humour was used to disguise her terror.
He turned off down Hamble Lane, only this time he continued along it instead of branching off for Strathen’s place. Strathen’s boat would be a good base for tonight but tomorrow he’d have to sort out something else and he didn’t think he could risk returning to his cottage or collecting his own boat from the pontoon – both would be watched and possibly bugged.
‘Hope you like boats,’ he said.
‘In this weather? It’s freezing.’
‘It’s got a heater.’
‘Great!’
‘And it’s got two cabins.’
‘Fantastic, can’t wait,’ she said with heavy sarcasm.
He gave a brief smile. It also had a powerful engine and that meant they could make a quick getaway if needed. He checked his mirrors as he had done constantly on the journey. There was nothing behind them. The car that had tailed them – if it had been – might now be heading for the Solent Way and the beach where Helen’s coat and rucksack lay. Or perhaps the driver of the van was. There had been no need to follow them; all they had to do was follow the tracking device.
The lights of a petrol station appeared ahead. Marvik swung into it and pulled up outside the shop. Strathen might have food on board but he wasn’t going to chance it. He told Helen they needed to buy something to eat for that night and the morning. Further ahead he hadn’t yet planned, although he had ideas. He bought tins of soup, baked beans, eggs, bread and milk. He also purchased tea and coffee and added a couple of tins of tuna, bananas and a packet of biscuits. He asked for a couple of extra carrier bags and handed them to Helen.
‘You can put your things in these.’
He pulled away. Everything was clear. A few minutes later he was driving into Hamble Point Marina car park where he parked as close to the pontoons as he could but it still meant a trek to where Strathen’s boat was moored. All was quiet. There was no one about. The marina office and the café were closed.
The blustery wind caught at them and drove the rain into their faces as they hurried down the wooden pontoon. Marvik’s polo shirt and trousers were wet but that didn’t bother him. He’d experienced worse. Helen looked swamped in Strathen’s jacket and she also looked cold and scared though he could see she was doing her best to put on a brave face.
‘Hope you don’t get seasick,’ he said, stopping at the large motor cruiser and unzipping the canvas awning.
‘We’re not going out to sea, are we?’ she cried, alarmed.
He nodded and jumped on board holding out a helping hand. But she pulled herself up and declined it. ‘I’m quite capable of getting on a boat. This yours?’
‘No, it’s a friend’s.’
‘Pity. I was hoping to be sick all over it.’
He smiled and opened up the hatch. He nodded her down the spiral staircase to the main saloon and cabins and watched as she took in her surroundings, noting that she seemed suitably impressed by the opulent interior, the leather seating, mahogany cabinets. ‘I thought you said it had heaters.’ She shivered and drew the jacket tighter around her.
‘I’ll run the engine. Decide which cabin you want to sleep in. There are two.’
He climbed back on deck and at the helm inserted the key. The engine started first time, as he knew it would in a modern boat of this calibre. It was newer than his boat and larger with a quieter engine, though not a more powerful one. He left it ticking over and climbed back into the cabin, leaving the hatch open just a fraction. She’d taken the cabin in the aft with the en-suite, leaving him the one for’ard with adjoining heads. He called out to say that it would soon be warm.
He washed his hands in the small shower cubicle then opened the cabinet to find soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush and battery operated shaver. In the cabin he also found a T-shirt, jumper and sailing jacket. Strathen was a similar build. Marvik exchanged his wet polo shirt for Strathen’s T-shirt and pulled on the jumper. There was also a double duvet and two pillows.
Helen appeared in the doorway. ‘Looks cosy,’ she said as he threw the duvet on to the bed.
‘Have you got bedding?’
She nodded. ‘Can we eat? I’m starving.’
But Marvik said, ‘Not yet.’
He made to step past her but she didn’t move. ‘What now?’ she said with weary exasperation.
‘We get under way.’
‘You still think they’ll find us.’
‘Out there they can’t,’ he said, pointing in the direction of the Solent, except they could if they looked at the shipping movements via satellite tracking on the Internet. Anyone could tap into that but not anyone would know they were on a boat, let alone which one. Besides, Marvik had no intention of staying ‘out there’. All he’d done was buy them some time, and he intended to buy them some more.
He brushed past her, catching the hint of her perfume. It smelt spicy and reminded him of Charlotte. He called up the GPS navigator. Strathen had many routes loaded and as Marvik touched the screen to find where he wanted to head his hand froze. There was a course set for the Isle of Wight. Nothing unusual in that – Strathen often motored across to the island – only this one was set for the bay where Marvik had been on Wednesday night in his search for Ashley Palmer in that derelict coastguard cottage. He checked the log but there was nothing recorded for that day or evening. That didn’t mean that Strathen hadn’t gone there, just that he hadn’t recorded his trip on that day, if he had been there.
He set aside the thought and cast off. Jumping back on board he released the throttle and with the aid of the bow thrusters eased the craft from its mooring. Visibility was poor because of the rain and the night, and the sea state was choppy. He had radar and knew the Solent like the back of his hand but he still didn’t want to travel too far. He didn’t know how good a sailor Helen was and he wondered if the best course of action was to head for the cottage or rather close to it. His house and boat might possibly be under surveillance but if both were that meant their pursuers had been able to find out where he lived. And that narrowed down who could be after them. DI Feeny and Crowder knew where he lived, and so too he thought would Duncan Ross who would have got his name from Littlehampton Marina. Then all he’d had to do was run it through the databases available to the police, such as Her Majest
y’s Revenue and Customs. If Ross was in league with whoever had killed Esther then he would pass on the information. Perhaps he’d already done that because someone had been waiting for him outside Helen’s house. Several thoughts occurred to him but he postponed them for the time being and manoeuvred the boat out of the River Hamble into Southampton Water.
Soon he was in the Solent and motoring across to the Isle of Wight. They’d pick up a buoy in the Newtown River entrance for the night. At this time of year they would have the place to themselves.
Peering into the darkness memories of his missions in the Special Boat Services came to him. It had been a career he’d loved and had only reluctantly relinquished to be replaced with another on the sea – not quite as dangerous, he’d originally thought, but he’d been wrong. But even before the death of Harry Salcombe he’d found the job unrewarding and tedious, and perhaps that was why he’d let down his guard. He had made the fatal error of not getting to know his fellow crewman and the boat’s owner. His colleagues in the Commandos and in the Special Boat Services had received the same training and shared the same experiences as him. They had been schooled to obey commands without question. Lee Addington had been out of the armed forces for some time and Salcombe had never been in the services. They were civilians. Just as he now was.
‘Thought you might like this.’ Helen appeared with a large mug of coffee which she handed to him. ‘Don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel.’
‘Helm. Never done that before.’
‘No, I don’t expect you have,’ she answered seriously. She sipped her coffee. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Somewhere quiet and deserted.’
‘Sounds romantic, or rather it would if it wasn’t so cold and some maniac wasn’t after us. What do I call you?’
‘Marvik.’
‘No, what’s your first name?’
‘Art.’
‘Short for Arthur?’
‘No, just Art.’
‘Suits you.’
He wasn’t sure what that meant and he didn’t ask. He sipped his coffee, watching her scan the dark sea ahead.
‘How long will it take to get there?’ she said, finally breaking the silence.
‘About half an hour.’
She looked as though she was going to say something; he thought it was to ask questions about him but she took a breath and swallowed some coffee. Perhaps his body language had communicated to her that personal questions as far as he was concerned were off limits.
His thoughts slipped back to Charlotte and the night he’d spent with her. Where was she now? Was her body somewhere out here in the Solent? Would she be washed up along the shore in a few days, or maybe never? Or was she being held against her will, cold and terrified? The thought filled him with dread. If she’d been taken by Esther Shannon’s killer then Marvik knew she had to be dead. Two innocent people killed and another incarcerated for most of his life – how many more lives had this killer destroyed? Grainger’s? And now he’d destroy Helen’s.
Marvik briefly studied Helen. She looked bewildered and vulnerable. Then there was Blackerman’s wife and his son, Paul. Marvik’s resolve hardened. This was one man he wanted to meet face to face. But would Crowder get justice? Somehow Marvik doubted it. So perhaps he’d make the killer pay for what he’d done, when he found him.
The lights of East Cowes drew closer. Marvik piloted the craft west and Helen slipped below as they neared the entrance to Newtown River. Marvik scoured the darkness for a buoy to pick up. Soon he was letting down the anchor and he could smell food coming from the galley. He made certain the boat was secure and went below to find soup and bread on the galley table. The cabin was warm and they ate in silence. The soup was followed by an omelette, which he cooked, with baked beans and more coffee. Marvik didn’t think the caffeine would keep him awake because he didn’t think he’d get much sleep anyway, although he knew it would be safe to do so here. For tonight at least. Helen ate hungrily. Fear and adrenalin gave you an appetite. It was after they’d cleared away and were drinking their coffee that she finally spoke.
‘I’ve been thinking about the night Esther was killed and if there was anything I’d heard or been told that might help to find out why these people are following us. I can’t remember much. Maybe it will come back to me but there was the fact she was stuck in the lift with her … with Blackerman.’
DI Duncan Ross had told him that.
Helen added, ‘And that would really have freaked Esther out. She was terrified of being shut in; she hated confined spaces and she never got into a lift unless she really had to.’
‘Her room was on the thirteenth floor. That’s a lot of stairs to climb.’
‘I’ve known her climb more.’
So why get in it that night? He said, ‘Do you think she knew Terence Blackerman and he persuaded her into the lift?’
Helen lifted a shoulder in response. ‘Nobody mentioned that at the trial.’
Marvik examined this new information. ‘So Blackerman would have tried to calm her if she was in a panic at being trapped.’
Helen nodded. ‘Which made me think he then took advantage of her fear and vulnerability.’
And it was no doubt what a jury had been told.
Helen continued. ‘Maybe after that she didn’t want to be alone and one thing led to another. But why would she sleep with him?’
‘Because she was afraid.’
‘Then why the hell did he leave her alone in her room in the early hours of the morning?’
‘Something he has no doubt regretted.’
There was a long silence between them, during which Marvik heard the wind whistling around the boat as it gently rocked on the tide. Finally he said, ‘Can you remember who she went to the Remembrance Service with?’
‘I’ve been thinking about that too since you mentioned it earlier. John Stisford organized the tickets. He always went and he was a friend of Mum’s. He knew Dad, served with him in the Falklands. He used to speak about Dad.’ Her expression clouded over. ‘I remember thinking why doesn’t he shut up and why isn’t my dad still alive and not him?’
‘Was he married?’
‘Divorced. I wondered if he’d end up marrying Mum, and I didn’t much care for that, but then her health got worse and perhaps he didn’t want to be saddled with an invalid. Esther seemed to get on with him though. I used to moan about him and call him Mister Boring and she’d stick up for him and say he was kind.’
‘Do you know where he is now?’
‘No, but I can find out. I’ll call the British Legion branch in Marchwood. They’ll tell me. Only I’ll need to get their number; it was on my mobile phone.’
‘Call directory enquiries in the morning. We’ll find a pay phone.’ He didn’t want to run the risk of his number being traced from the Legion’s call log. Perhaps the killer was already trawling through Helen’s mobile phone numbers and had found the British Legion number but if he had then he could hardly make anything of that. Would Stisford be able to tell him anything relevant about the final day of Esther’s life? He had to try.
‘Did the police question him?’
‘They must have done.’
‘Did he appear at the trial?’
‘Not in the stand if that’s what you mean, but he came with me and my aunt, my mum’s sister, and before you ask she’s dead. And even if she wasn’t you wouldn’t get anything out of her except that Esther brought it on herself by sleeping with Blackerman. I hated her for saying that. She was one of those God-fearing, always-right type of women. After the trial I had nothing more to do with her. I only found out she’d died because it was in the announcement column in the local paper.’
Marvik could see her mind flitting back to the ordeal of the trial. ‘Can you remember who they called to give evidence? Or who Blackerman’s defence barrister was?’
‘No. It’s all a bit of a muddle in my head. I remember them saying the lift had broken down, as I told you, and that the
fire service were called. And that apart from the chambermaid and a previous occupant of the room only Blackerman’s fingerprints and DNA were in the room. It was so obvious he’d done it. I just remember thinking why doesn’t the bastard own up? How dare he put me through this? See, I was only thinking of myself, not poor bloody Esther.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself, you were only sixteen.’
‘Yeah, well.’
And Marvik could see the anger was still there. ‘Do you remember a police officer called Grainger?’
‘Yes. Big fellow. Gruff. Hard.’
‘He’s dead. Killed in a hit and run in Brighton nine months after retiring in 2004. No one was ever caught for it.’
‘That’s grim.’ Then her eyes narrowed. ‘Hey, you can’t think …’
‘Perhaps he was writing his memoirs.’
‘But he was convinced Blackerman was the killer.’
‘Do you remember a police officer called Duncan Ross?’
‘Don’t tell me he’s dead too!’
‘No. I spoke to him yesterday about Esther, only he didn’t know why I was interested.’ Or rather he pretended he didn’t. ‘He has doubts about the conviction.’
‘Then why didn’t he say?’
Marvik shrugged. ‘Perhaps he didn’t have doubts at the time.’
‘What are you going to do next?’
‘Talk to a few people, see what I can ferret out.’
‘I guess I ought to phone work tomorrow and report sick.’
She was planning on being with him and there was some advantage to that. But it was too risky for her to remain with him. He’d need somewhere safe for her to stay until this was over, and he had no idea when that would be.
‘Let’s turn in.’
He lay on his bunk, fully clothed with the duvet over him, just as Helen lay on hers in the other cabin. He needed to call Strathen. He wondered what he’d managed to find out. He’d do that in the morning. He let his thoughts return to the course he’d seen on the navigation plotter. When had Strathen been in that bay the other side of the island? Was it on the day that Palmer had disappeared? He hated this feeling of mistrust creeping in. Strathen was one of his oldest friends, in fact his only friend. If he couldn’t trust Strathen who could he trust? The answer was no one.
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